


Herd

by yeaka



Category: Christmas Tales & Traditions
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, Furry, Holidays, M/M, PWP, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Donner bones Vixen.
Relationships: Donner/Vixen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Herd

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own mangled Christmas lore or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

They hay is more insulation than food, a prickly shield against the freezing temperature outside and sometimes rough bedding, now for a barrier—Donner’s built it up around them like a wall or a cocoon, a nest for them to lie in. Thinking of it as a homemade nest makes it marginally more romantic, if there can be anything _romantic_ at all about the thorough, brutal, balls-deep fucking Vixen’s getting. He’s on all fours in the center of their dirty-blond circle, knees digging down into the hay and pushed back and forth so much that he can feel the frigid dirt below. His palms keep scrabbling against the ground for purchase, trying to keep him up when Donner keeps trying to knock him down. Every-time Donner’s enormous cock slams into his ass, Vixen thinks he’s going to topple right over. 

He knew this was a good idea. Knew it would be worth taunting the hottest of his peers into grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and slamming him into the side of the barn. He got so brazen near the end of the year that he’s sure all their colleagues noticed—Cupid hasn’t looked him in the eyes since he all but fellated the oversized candy cane Santa gave him right before Christmas. He leaned against the gate and stared across the pen, eyes locked on Donner as he slid the thick rod in and out of his throat, tongue out to taste it. The others chomped theirs up like carrots, but Vixen put on a _show_.

He went wild on their flight, deliberately shaking the snow off his tail every time they landed on a new roof. He was the first to line up by the sleigh and made sure he was tied in front of Donner, that the harness strapped around his chest and hips draped back to clip on Donner’s. He kept his tail up every time he thought of it, spread his legs as much as he could, and let the buck behind him get a good, long look at his clenching asshole. 

And it’s finally paid off, because now Donner’s diving into that hole like he’s been waiting all year. Maybe he has. Vixen can’t remember a time when he _didn’t_ want Donner’s cock. It used to be just any cock. He used to dream about plodding off into the woods and finding some wolf or fox to take him, mating right through the whole season and even through the big night, but then he’d inevitably trot back because no one could fill him up like another reindeer. And Donner can do the best job of all of them. He’s easily the most hung. Vixen spent one Christmas night chained beside him, hyper aware of the giant dick swinging between his legs as they kicked through the air. And then Vixen would have to resist tangling his own dick in his harness and jerking himself off right there in front of seven witnesses and their master. 

He’d like to think Santa would give them his blessing. He knows how important Christmas presents are, how much good boys deserve to get their stockings stuffed and have large men come down their chimney. He chortles at his own overused puns and groans when Donner’s efforts redouble, nearly knocking him down again. It’s an effort just to take it. His thighs are tense, his ass cheeks battered, sweat beading under his fur. It’ll be matted and clammy after this, and no amount of licking will make him clean again. Santa will have to slap on his collar and leash and drag him down to a freezing pond to bathe, and he’ll whine but know it was _so_ worth it. He almost wants an ice bath now, because Donner’s making him so hot that it may as well be summer in the tropics. 

Donner stabs into him with a languid groan of approval, and Vixen clamps down to hold back his shriek. The noise still comes out muffled, dying into a heady moan—he’s completely lost in the sensation. Donner stretches him so wide, fucks him so deep, rubs his walls in all the right places. He can’t remember the last time he was ploughed so well. Maybe never. Another thrust, and it’s all he can do not to scream. He knows he can’t. The others are just outside and could come wandering in at any second. And then they’d see Donner’s tight abs and broad shoulders and handsome face and giant antlers, and of course they’d be all over him, dying to suck his cock and pinch his nipples and worship his balls—and Vixen wants Donner’s monster cock all to himself.

A strangled cry flitters out of him before he can stop it. Donner’s paw slams between his shoulder blades, forcing him down—Vixen obediently bends right to the hay. He turns his cheek to it and lets Donner’s grip slide down to his neck, holding him there. His back’s arched at such a steep angle that it hurts, but no more than his channel aches, and Vixen wouldn’t stop for anything. His cock is heavy and hard between his legs, swinging between each thrust—the new angle has it slapping his stomach and adding to the din of raunchy, wet noises. Donner mutters above him, “If you keep making those sounds, I’m gonna have to muzzle you.”

Vixen’s panting too hard to form a reply. But he nods feebly against the earth, clenching his hole around Donner’s cock to show his agreement—how much he’d _love_ Donner to tie him up like a slave-animal. He wants them back in their harness, strung together, tight straps under and over his breast and circling his hips. He wants to hear the bells jingle every time Donner pounds into him. Donner chuckles, low and dominant, “You’re such a _slut_ for it, Vixen.” A paw slaps his ass, but it’s already jiggling and stinging so much from the Donner’s abuse that the hit barely registers. “And you have the _best_ ass... just like a doe, ready to be bred...”

Vixen moans and hopes Donner comes so much that a doe would be knocked up on the first round. He wants a sticky white mess dribbling down his thighs, staining his fur, draping over to the tip of his own leaking cock. He wants to lap the puddle off the floor and eat any hay with so much as a drop of Donner’s cum. Then he wants Donner to lick his ass out and fuck him again. 

He really must be the naughtiest reindeer. But he’s been a good boy for the whole rest of the year, and he thinks he deserves this treat. At least Donner’s fallen to his level, even swearing, “ _Fuck_ , it’s like you were born for this... the perfect fucktoy... you’re just one big cock-sleeve for me to use up... can’t wait to come all over you...”

Vixen whimpers desperately. He can’t wait either. He doesn’t know what took so long. Why Donner hasn’t ploughed him every day of the year. He wants to be tied to the front of the sled and have _all_ of them plough him, one after the other, Donner in between every time to double the rounds, then wants to be muzzled and tied in the corner of the workshop so all the elves can have their turns too—

Donner comes with a roar, slamming in so hard that Vixen actually sees stars. The force of the blow knocks his ass to the floor, and Donner pounds him into it, spilling into him over and over. It as much that feeling of being flooded as it is the friction of the hay against his sensitive cock that makes Vixen follow—he moans and comes all over his own front. His eyes roll up to the back of his head, tongue lolling out and brain turning off as Donner uses him up. Donner keeps thrusting, shoving in warm ropes of cum before dragging it out again, splattering it all over Vixen’s ass and thighs. His poor tail gets drenched in the process and droops with the extra weight. Donner grabs it to keep it upright, lifting Vixen’s ass a centimeter off the floor with it, and that’s even hotter—Vixen loves the pain, loves being manhandled, loves being _used_. Raunchy fantasies spiral through his feverish mind as his body comes down from its high, obliterated by the orgasm. 

When Donner lets go of Vixen’s tail, his ass hits the earth. He has nothing left and lies there, limp and ravaged. Wrecked. He can feel clumps of cum all over his fur and even in the saner afterglow still finds that hot. Donner begrudgingly asks, like he feels _guilty_ for dicking Vixen down so hard, “You okay there, buddy?”

Vixen manages to turn his head just enough to peer over his shoulder. The expression of pure bliss on his face seems to say it all. Donner bends forward to affectionately knock their antlers together. 

Then he slaps Vixen’s ass and wriggles his cock around it. Vixen moans, only for an arm to slip under his stomach and lift him back up. Donner resumes the relentless assault, and Vixen actually lets out a sob of joy that his after-Christmas present isn’t over.


End file.
